Advent Calendar
by MadBat27
Summary: Following a hunch, the World's Greatest Detective tracks down an old, often underestimated foe, and foils the crook's nefarious plans for the festive season. Xmas fic 13/25.


Gerhard, as he had taken to calling himself, was rather proud of the work he'd done. The little workshop now looked like a picturesque grotto, complete with sloping tiled roof, coated in snow and a quaint little chimney to one side. The firewood was ready to be lit, and the milk and cookies sat on the little red table he'd carved himself.

 _What a good little worker I am_.

But now, it was time for the real work to begin. The ingredients had all arrived, stored in their parcels under the Christmas tree. All made out to Mr. G. Lang. The lights flashed above, glimmering on the silver and red tinsel, throwing strange shapes on the cardboard.

Gerhard pulled the black leather gloves up, and straightened the red apron with its white detailing. Exactly how Santa would dress if he were a bomb-maker. His thick black boots clunked heavily on the wooden floor as he made his way over to the sacks of fertiliser to begin his work.

And then he heard it.

"Who's that crawling down my chimney?"

Gerhard scowled, cautiously moving towards the fireplace. His hand clasped gently around the knife stuck into his belt at the back. Crouching low, he peered up into the blackness. Had he imagined it, or was there someone there? He knew one thing for sure: it wasn't anyone fat and jolly.

All at once the pellets dropped and smoke filled the room. Gerhard coughed and spluttered, fanning the air with his free hand. The knife was out now, light from the Christmas tree glinting off the steel blade. The hilt was made of reindeer antler. Suddenly from the darkness, a black shape sprung forward, gauntleted fist aim directly for Gerhard's nose.

Suppressing a squeal, Gerhard vaulted backwards and crashed in a heap on the hardwood floor. He gritted his teeth as pain surged from his elbows through his arms. The knife skidded to a halt beneath the tree.

Gerhard cursed. Above him loomed the imposing shadow of the Dark Knight, his cold white eyes piercing Gerhard's very soul. The vigilante's black cape swirled behind him in a supernatural storm of righteous anger. They said he was just a man, but at that moment, it was difficult to believe.

"How… how did you find me?" Gerhard stuttered.

"Your recent spending spree raised red flags," Batman said, glancing at the components for explosive gather beneath the pine needles. "Your alias made it obvious who I was dealing with. Gerhard Lang: credited inventor of advent calendars. Tracking you down was easy, Calendar Man."

Regaining his composure, Gerhard – or Julian Day – drew himself up to his full height, as much as possible while sitting on the floor. No more cowering. No more simpering. Today's the day Gotham learned what Calendar Man was truly made of.

"This is the advent of a new era, Batman. A time in which the name Calendar Man shall be feared, not mocked."

"Not on my watch."

Calendar Man smiled cruelly, shuffling back on his haunches. He stretched out his hand behind him, feeling for the antler hilt, knowing he was close. His finger brushed cold metal, just as the Bat began to close the distance, cuffs at the ready.

"I will have my day, Batman. Mark my words!"

As his hand found the hilt, Julian threw himself forwards, slamming into the bulk of the Dark Knight. The collision was like hitting a brick wall, and the Caped Crusader barely staggered. But now the knife flashed, and Calendar man heard the sharp intake of breath as the blade bit deep into the vigilante's thigh. Then the Bat's knee came up, striking him in the face.

As Calendar Man rolled away, Batman staggered back and inspected the wound.

"Would you like to know my plan? As you've ruined it," Calendar Man spat. "I might as well tell you. I was going to rig the Christmas Tree in Gotham Square to blow. And when the Mayor hits the lights, it's no more Silent Night."

His voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but he could tell his words had struck a chord. The crime-fighter glared at him with reprehension.

"Women and children go to see the lights turned on."

"And? Why should they get to enjoy Christmas? I never did. The only present I ever got was a black eye from my father. He'd beat me with a cane. And it wasn't candy-striped." Calendar man sniffed, his face scrunched up in distaste. "Nothing sweet about it."

The two adversaries circled, the floorboards creaking under their weight. Calendar Man switched the knife to his right hand, and put his favoured left in his pocket. Soft material touched his fingertips and pulled the stocking slowly, not yet ready to reveal it.

"He used to lock me in the garage, and I'd wake up to the smell of oil and gasoline," Julian continued. "I would have been happy with two lumps of coal."

Then he attacked, swinging the stocking full of coal like a Morningstar mace. Batman ducked, then dodged deftly back as the knife jabbed forward. Julian swung the stocking again, and again, then slashed with the blade, but each time the Batman danced away.

Julian could feel the sweat dripping down his forehead, glistening on the Roman numerals inked into his scalp. He wasn't built for physical confrontation. But he had a back-up plan, if he could only get to it. Turning his back on the Batman wasn't an option. Not without a distraction.

In a desperate, last-ditch effort, he threw the stocking at the crime-fighter and ran for the mantelpiece, where the lighter was stored. He didn't wait to see how effective the attack had been, but when he turned around again, the Batman was a few feet away.

"Father would have been happier that way, too, you know. I could never have doused him in coal."

Julian flicked the lighter. Everything in his grotto, from the tree and the decks, to the floorboards and tiles on the roof. Batman must surely have noticed the scent when he first entered the building, if not before. Julian had grown used to it. The flame shot into life. Once it touched anything else, the whole place would go up.

"If I can't be taken seriously for my crimes, I'll be taken seriously for the way I leave this world. They'll mark this date in their diaries, I assure you. The day Calendar Man killed the Bat!"

Batman leapt forwards even as madman flicked the lighter up into the air and across the room, out of reach. There was no chance of catching it now. In a swift motion, the vigilante delivered a thunderous punch to the villain's jaw, knocking him unconscious and allowing him to slump into the black Kevlar covered arms. Even as the lighter feel towards the flammable decking, Batman returned to the fireplace and hooked himself to the rappel line, still carrying Julian Day over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

With a clink and a roar the lighter tapped the ground and flames burst out in every direction, quickly engulfing the room. The flame jetted up the chimney spout, hot on the heels of the Crusader as he soared up to the safety of his Bat-plane. The edges of his cape were singed by the spurting flames. Julian eyes fluttered open just in time to see his dream go up in smoke. All that planning for nothing. Then everything went dark.

Julian Day woke up back in his cell at Arkham, with the calendar already on the wall. Only a few days left to strike off for this year. Perhaps next year would be better. Next year would be his year. Gotham would tremble at the sound of his name and all who mocked him would be punished; the cops, the criminals and the abhorrent Batman.

But for now, all there was to do was wait and count the days.


End file.
